


Sink

by ColetheWolf



Series: Smutty Drabbles [12]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Breeding, Derek owns a company, Intern!Stiles, M/M, Power Imbalance, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, boss!derek, office!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 10:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16093574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColetheWolf/pseuds/ColetheWolf
Summary: Stiles has an internship at Hale Enterprises, where the gossip of the land says the big bad boss is a sex god. Stiles finds out the truth.





	Sink

**Author's Note:**

> A drabble. I write them from time-to-time and post them @halesparked.tumblr.com.
> 
> Tumblr post:
> 
> <https://halesparked.tumblr.com/post/178441446625/derek-hale-was-a-powerful-charmingly-intelligent>

Derek Hale was a powerful, charmingly intelligent, stacked beefcake castle of pure sinful deliciousness. He was also the CEO of Hale Enterprises —a family company —and didn’t fuck around when it came down to putting in the extra hours. But most importantly, Derek held the notorious reputation of being one of the hottest fucks in the entire city of Beacon Hills, California. 

People practically lined themselves up outside of Hale Enterprises with their damn resumes stapled to their own foreheads in a desperate attempt to hop onto Derek’s magical little adventure into dominant business strategies and financial success. That…and for the opportunity to at least  _try_  to weasel their way into Derek’s office for a late-night one-on-one “meeting”.

Stiles had only worked at Hale Enterprises for a couple weeks on an internship score, as it would help bolster his own resume. For him, the job was a job. And an important one at that. He was way too busy during the weekdays to even think, let alone waste time fantasizing and giving into the seemingly ludicrous gossip that circulated through the cubicles. 

The gossip was heavy and more than enough to make some people jizz their pants. Everybody was so caught up in their own fantasies about Derek Hale. According to the little worker bees of Hale Enterprises, Derek was hung like a stallion. He loved it rough and dirty. He once split a desk in half after fucking a poor intern right through the solid mahogany wood. And, he also apparently once sent an errand-boy home sopping wet with cum. 

It was all craziness and undoubtedly hogwash, used to keep things in the office from getting too bland and boring. Admittedly, even Stiles found some of the stories particularly entertaining despite the pornographic vividness. He had to admit that the creativeness of Derek’s employees was otherworldly. People sure did go to great lengths to entertain themselves. 

On a particular Monday morning, Stiles arrived at Hale Enterprises —ready to get on with the day. There was nothing strange about the day. It was just as plain and dreary as the next. Although, Stiles was ready to put aside his bitter complaints about the intense workload and awful cafeteria food if it meant getting something impressive on his resume for future work. 

However, upon riding the elevator up to the fifty-fifth floor and a walk down the long office corridor to get to where his unofficial make-shift cubicle was located, he was instead greeted by a tired-eyed receptionist man. Stiles was momentarily flooded with worry as to what was going on. Had he done something wrong? Was he about to get dragged back to the elevator and kicked out of his internship?

“Good morning, Mr. Stilinski.” The tired-eyed man spoke. “It appears that Mr. Hale’s personal assistant has called in sick and won’t be able to be here for the day. And as a result, you’ve been elected to take up the task as a last minute replacement.”

Stiles would have been lying if he hadn’t noticed the obvious and audible gasps from his surrounding office-workers. Acting as a personal assistant to Derek Hale? Well of course their minds were filled to the brim with jealousy and more of that vivid imagination. Surely, each and every one of them were probably playing out a mental video of all the naughty things Derek would end up doing. 

“A personal assistant? But, why would he pick me?” Stiles questioned. 

“He didn’t.” The man replied. “Everybody else had important things that they’re doing, and you’re just an intern. So you were an easy pick.”

Stiles shrugged off the insulting words and quickly followed the man to the elevator. The two stepped into the chamber and went straight up to the hundredth floor, which was where Derek’s main office was located. And as the doors of the elevator opened, Stiles caught himself about to scoff, because it looked like all the other floors of the building. There was nothing special about it, despite the fact that the workers below made it out to be a floor of gold and marble.

The man shoved Stiles out of the elevator and then motioned for him to just continue walking forward. He didn’t offer any words of instruction, nor any words of encouragement, before he shut the elevator doors and disappeared out of Stiles’ “new world”. So naturally, Stiles rolled his eyes and got on with figuring out what he was supposed to do. 

Stiles carried on for what seemed like a solid ten minutes, before he came up to Derek’s actual office. Again, the two-paneled doors looked just as bleak as the rest of the building —making Stiles chuckle to himself. He knocked on the door and waited….waited….and waited….but to no answer. At least, not until Stiles was about to waltz off to find somebody else to speak with. 

“Were you just going to stand out there all day or something?” Derek sneered, holding open the door. “I know you internship-types are fresh out of college with no real world experience, but damn, I didn’t know you were all so fudge-brained.”

“I didn’t want to intrude.” Stiles offered, put off by the contrasting beauty of Derek’s physical appearance and his sour personality. 

“Well—?” Derek grunted. “Are you still just going to stand out there or come in?”

Stiles stepped into the expanse of the office, still unimpressed with the lack of glamour, despite the fact that Derek was a multi-millionaire. For somebody who was so big in the social sphere, big in physical presence, big in a terrible personality, and  _big_  in the minds of everybody who worked for him….Derek sure wasn’t that great. 

The day went down without much issue. Yeah, Derek was a total asshole who loved having people chase after him to help with all of the things that he needed done. He was on the phone most of the time, screaming at the top of his lungs at god-knows-who about god-knows-what. He also had an obvious addiction to coffee, because the man drank through it like it actually kept him alive. 

At the end of the workday, Stiles actually could fight the fact that he was a little bit disappointed. Derek was hot, sure. But he was nothing like all of the stories that swirled around the office in the gossip. And despite the fact that Stiles hadn’t even really believed any of it from the beginning, there had been just a little bit of Stiles’ soul that had wanted at least something interesting to happen. But with a mere three minutes left on the clock before it was time to head home, the day was over…so it appeared. 

As Stiles packed up his bag and readied himself for his grand ole exit from being Derek’s own personal punching bag, the large shadow of his boss eclipsed itself over the little assistant desk that situated Stiles’ position. It caught Stiles’ attention, leading him to turn around to see what the hell Derek was doing. He was sure that Derek was about to order him to stick around for some extra hours, or fetch more coffee, or fire him for being too slow throughout the day. 

“For an intern, you weren’t god awful.” Derek admitted dryly. “And since my regular assistant is going to out for the next couple of days, I expect you to be here tomorrow morning to play the same game.”

“Is this some kind of game?” Stiles barked. “Like, are you actually an asshole because it’s funny to you or because you have to haze the newbie intern as some sort of company ritual?”

Derek’s eyebrows rose. “You’ve got a fucking mouth on you. What poor-man’s university did you attend that taught you it was perfectly okay to speak to your damn boss with an attitude?”

“I didn’t mean—”

“You did.” Derek cut off. “I’ve watched you fumble around all day with simple tasks like you’ve never been professionally productive a day in your life. The more pissed off you got, the more hilarious of a show it became.”

Stiles crossed his arms. “Well, fucking excuse me. I’m sorry I couldn’t deliver you the thousands of cups of coffee that you so _eloquently_ demanded, sire.”

“You’re not helping your case.”

“I don’t give a fuck. If this is the kind of man that I’m supposedly working under, then I’d rather live in a cardboard box than have my time working here on my resume.” Stiles argued. “You know, you’re millions of times worse than the picture everybody else painted you out to be.”

“Really? And what exactly did that painting look like?” Derek asked inquisitively. 

“Like some sort of god—dripping in the juices and cum of all the receptionists, assistants, janitors, and cubicle-hounds that you fuck around the clock to keep yourself occupied.” 

Derek scoffed softly. He reached out and gently caressed the necklace that was settled delicately around Stiles’ neck. It was a simple anchor, real silver, and surprisingly light despite how heavy that it looked. And yet, it caught Derek’s attention. So, he clicked his tongue and fiddled around with it. 

“That’s quite the expectation that you had for me, Stiles.” Derek snorted. “Don’t take it personal. See, my personal assistants are grunts. They do all the shit that I don’t want to do. They fetch me coffee when I ask. They file paperwork. They keep things tidy and polished up. They’re way too busy for some hot fun. So I make it my rule to not fuck personal assistants. I don’t want to distract them from their work.”

“Yeah, well fuck you. And fuck this internship.” Stiles shouted. “I’m not your personal assistant anymore.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.” Derek chuckled softly, pulling Stiles closer by the anchor necklace. “Now, I  _can_  fuck you.”

The force of Derek’s lips crashing against Stiles’ mouth was forceful enough to blow Stiles’ hair back. It had enough of a charge to electrify Stiles’ mind, rendering him practically unable to generate cohesive thoughts. He couldn’t think, or speak, or even really breathe. He was so caught up in the surprise of Derek’s lips on his own. 

“What’s the anchor necklace for?” Derek asked breathlessly. “You obsessed with the ocean or some bullshit like that?”

“It’s symbolic.” Stiles explained, tugging at the front of Derek’s shirt and tie. “It’s also lucky. It keeps me rational and grounded.”

“Grounded? Perfect.” Derek said, tugging the necklace off into his hand. “Make like an anchor and sink, bitch. Undo my pants and get my cock out.”

Stiles did as he was told, still heavily caught up in the surprise of the whole situation. Apparently, the gossip wasn’t too far off. Derek did sleep around with his faithful employees. Once more, he was just as dominating and powerful and arrogant as everybody said. Yet, Stiles couldn’t help but get hard. There was something so hot about the brutality of Derek’s personality. 

Derek’s pants were unbuttoned quick and easily. Stiles barely had time to adjust to the pressure of his knees against the hard ground before he had Derek’s cock stuffed into his mouth. It was more than enough to gag him with each thrust, but Stiles kept himself under control and open for Derek’s pleasure. He hadn’t sucked many cocks in his lifetime, but he knew the way around the act. 

Stiles kept his mouth open wide and his tongue active. He swallowed down every inch and thrust that Derek happily delivered and melted beautifully into the sensation, the taste, the weighted pressure, and the ache of his own jaw as time went on. Derek tasted like authority and his pre-cum tasted expensive, almost like Stiles knew he’d end up addicted to the taste and beg his way back into the internship that he had tossed away in a fit of frustration. 

After the deepthroating wasn’t enough to fuel Derek’s excessive thirst for stimulation anymore, he picked Stiles up from his knees, spun him around, and made quick work of shoving the intern’s trousers down. And before long, Derek was inside of him—fast and hard and brutal. It was as if his thrusts were specifically designed to make it known who owned the company, who owned the building, and who held the power. 

Stiles was more than happy with every bit of power that he could feel get fucked into him from behind. Derek’s pace was ruthless and Stiles took it deep. He could feel his prostate get hammered into. Suddenly, Stiles didn’t care too much about being under the boss. If he had to be a lap dog, so be it. If he had to fetch coffee for the rest of his days, it didn’t matter—so as long as he could cash in his work for the reward that was seated in Derek’s pants.

It wasn’t a race to orgasm, but if it had been, Stiles would have been declared the winner. Though, it wasn’t much of an impressive achievement, because it was all because of Derek’s punishing rhythm. Yet, Stiles screamed out into the emptiness of the office and spewed his hot load against the wall that Derek had practically pinned him forward against. 

But when Derek finished, it felt like an iron-clad punch of pleasure to the gut. Stiles couldn’t keep his composure. He fell apart. Tears rolled down his flushed cheeks in fat beads that stained his skin. His lips were still reddened from the roughness of Derek’s kiss. And as Stiles stood there, panting like a dog in heat against a solid wall, he felt Derek’s load pour into him like sin. 

Stiles realized that he wouldn’t be anything more than another bit of gossip that flowed through the floors of Derek’s company building. But the feeling of Derek’s hot load was burned into his inner walls forever. The smell of Derek’s musk drenched his clothes, soaked his hair, and plastered against Stiles’ skin. At least he had that.

And if this was what it felt like to be just another statistic in Derek’s "game”…Stiles was fine with it. 


End file.
